What would be your last meal? Steak? Lobster? Caviar? Nope. Not me. This would be my last meal.

Cheese. Bread. And a long, hot, pepper! It’s very ethnic of me. I can’t help it. It’s in my blood. It’s of my people. I went out shopping this morning and rewarded myself with this beauty for lunch. Do you know how happy I get when I see a pepper like this? The kind that’s so big it doesn’t even fit in the frame. The kind you find in a pizzeria, laying on top of a pile of garlic knots and waiting for a lunatic like me. Waiting to be sprinkled with sea salt. Waiting to be devoured.